


chamomile

by twelveinterror



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Afternoon Tea, Aged-Up Character(s), AtsuKita, Catching Up, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Longing, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Yearning, atsumu is tloml
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26439142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelveinterror/pseuds/twelveinterror
Summary: The door opens to Shinsuke Kita, ethereal as ever and surprise evident on his face. Atsumu wasn't supposed to be home until the following week for his welcoming party.But here he is, palms sweaty, holding a bag of bread, and in front of Shinsuke Kita, his former captain and highschool crush.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke & Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	chamomile

  
Atsumu presses the doorbell once.

Nothing.

He presses it again, and again, until he realizes that the doorbell isn't working and he's been pressing on it like a maniac. He takes in a deep breath. Hands clammy and the plastic bag he's holding is threatening to slip from his fingers. He tightened his hold and finally knocks.

There is no sense of urgency to the rhythm of his knocking. Three taps and a pause, then three taps again.

The door opens to Shinsuke Kita, ethereal as ever and surprise evident on his face. Atsumu wasn't supposed to be home until the following week for his welcoming party.

But here he is, palms sweaty, holding a bag of bread, and in front of Shinsuke Kita, his former captain and highschool crush.

He swallows the cotton forming in his throat as Kita ushers him inside. Leaving his shoes near the door and trading it for slippers. Atsumu breathes everthing in. The color of the frame lined walls is cream. The furniture was neither old or new. The house itself was big enough two people, Kita - san and his grandmother.

"The doorbell doesn't work."

"My neighbor's kid broke it."

Kita leads him to the kitchen area where a four - seater dinning table stands.

"I brought bread."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He hands the plastic bag to Kita.

"Thank you." 

Atsumu watches Kita's back as busies himself by preparing tea in the kitchen. It has been months since he last seen Kita in person, it was back at the Onigiri Miya Tokyo branch opening. His shoulders definitely got wider and the veins in his arms became more prominent over the years. He still gives off the 'I know what you did' look and the knowing stares he always catches on him back in highschool. 

Kita sets a tray with the bread he brought, two cups of tea, and a teapot.

A wonky looking teapot.

The handle is crooked, the spout is dented, the coating isn't even, and fingerprints mark the body of the pot. If you really look, you can see more imperfections.

It's flawed, yet well loved. Filled with boiling water and tea leaves, maybe used daily, because Kita - san and his grandmother enjoy drinking tea while watching the sunset. It would have been romantic. Staring at the horizon as the the wind brush the field, enjoying tea with contentment together with your beloved.

But Atsumu, will Atsumu ever be contented?

Kita must have noticed him staring and said "Made that in ceramics class years back." as he pours him tea. 

He holds on to his cup. Its everything and more. The fingerprints that mark the teapot is Kita - san's, molding it with his hands, baking it, polishing it, and using it for many years, filled to the brim daily, washing it, then letting it rest on the cupboards.

Atsumu doesn't know what the fuck he's babbling about. They fall into silence and basked in each others presence. He watched the ripples in his cup.

"It's been a while."

"Yeah."

"Congrats."

"Thanks. How are you Kita - san?"

"Great."

"Good."

Kita downs his tea in one gulp and Atsumu sips his tea seconds too early.

"Careful," he hands him a napkin.

Atsumu wipes his chin, blows on his cup, and sips gently this time. He could see the hands of the clock slowly moving in minutes. Kita is staring directly at him with a blank expression on his face.  
He squirms internally.

"Nice weather eh?"

"What brings you here, Atsumu?"

They spoke at the same time.  
He cleared his throat and sipped his tea.

"I just had too."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Yeah."

"So you woke up and said 'lemme just go to Kita - san's house uninvited' and now yer here?"

"Do you want me to leave? 'cause I will. Sorry for comin' uninvited," he gets up and bows.

"No, stay. I was just asking."

"Sorry, Kita - san."

"Don't be."

He sits back down as Kita refills their cups. They fall into silence again, and its deafening. He could probably hear his heart hammering in his chest and hopefully, Kita - san can't hear it.

They haven't been alone together since the afternoon of Kita's highschool graduation.

"So... how are ya Kita - san?"

"You've asked me that already."

"Oh."

"How are you?"

"Good."

"Oh."

"Where's Obaa - san?"

"With a friend."

"Oh."

He bangs his head on the table. This is painful. This is not like how he'd planned their interaction would be.

"Atsumu, what're you doing?"

He peeks through his hair to look at Kita. He looks genuinely concerned, tilting his head to the left.

"I just... miss you I guess."

He hums.

"I.. You have been there for me since then and I wouldn't be standin' on where I am without you. And I know its awkward because I just show up at your door pressing on yer broken doorbell on a Wednesday afternoon, a week before I should've actually came. I haven't seen you since Tokyo and the last time we spoke together, alone was when you rejected me on your graduation day."

Kita sipped his tea, leaned on his palm, and opens his mouth to speak.

"Please don't say anythin', I'm scared."

"Why are ya scared off anyway? It's just me."

He raises his head up and kept his cheeks squished between his palms.

"Because, you're not just you."

"What?" Kita brings his palm down and sits straight.

"I don't know how to say this, but..." he rakes his hand through his hair. "Did I make ya proud?"

Kita stills for a second, red rushing to his ears, "Of course."

Atsumu let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I've always been and will be proud of you, Atsumu."

His hands are fidgeting on the table, so he holds on to his cup. His heart is cracking in all the right places, like a good kind of heartbreak. Atsumu bangs his head on the table again and sobs, tapping the table with his clammy and shaky hand.

"I'm so sorry we lost."

"You did well," Kita cages Atsumu's hand with his. "Stop hitting the table, yer gonna break it." He holds his hand gently enveloping it with his.

Calloused from work and years of volleyball, both sun-kissed and healthy, thumbs lightly caressing his skin it physically hurts.   
Atsumu wouldn't trade it for the world.

"I never stopped loving you, thought it was just a crush but..." he said as he covered his eyes with his free hand.

"I know," Kita's grip tightens.

"And I think ya rejected me back then because I was seventeen."

"Too immature, and you asked me to marry you straight off the bat."

"I'm twenty-five now, and if I ask again, seriously would you reject me?"

"Go."

"Will you give me a chance?"

Kita pulls his hand away from his face and smiles.

"Yes."

His heart broke of relief and years of longing. His chest felt heavy but his pulse was finally slowing down. Tears cascading down his face, then onto the table next to his cup of chamomile.

"Let's eat the bread you brought, yeah?"

"Of course."

"Stay for supper, Obaa - chan would love to see yer face."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi i just had a thought about making teapots and it spiraled from there  
> its kinda short but here thanks for reading
> 
> im @twelveinterror on twitter talk to me ahaha


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